


Eyes

by neversolace



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Tags to be added later on, They are both 17, They start off as strangers, rating will possibly change, school setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26018605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversolace/pseuds/neversolace
Summary: Greg Lestrade needs help to get the grades for university and who else would be better to teach him than the smartest kid in the whole school; Mycroft Holmes.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first shot at a multi chapter story, so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! I plan to make this a series of 3-4 stories and I am hoping the fact that this is multi chapter will help me publish more often. If not feel free to shout at me in the comments.

The soft eyes were staring at him, and Mycroft couldn't seem to pull his gaze away. He was losing himself for a second and nothing else was registering in his mind. He vaguely remembered walking through the school gates of Roundwood Secondary School for the first day of the school year, avoiding the lower years scuffling on the playground outside the Mathematics block. He had opened the door to the main school building and turned left to walk down the English. After bumping into an English teacher who was trying to recruit him for the Open Evening next week, he carried on to go into the library. Before he could pass through the threshold, a boy had tapped him on the shoulder. That was all he remembered. Then it was just eyes. Soft eyes. Eyes that made it seem like they had met before and were already comfortable with each other. 

He realised his mouth had started to open slightly when the eyes seemed to look concerned. That was when he registered that the eyes must have been asking a question, so Mycroft zoned back in and made an effort to see what was actually happening in front of him. In front of him stood Gregory Lestrade, a boy he was vaguely aware of. Mycroft hadn't had much contact with him, seeing as he joined last year and Greg had been there for the previous five. Mycroft had decided to keep to himself seeing as everyone seemed to stick to their previous friend groups. This didn't bother Mycroft, it meant he could focus on his studies without much distraction. Nevertheless, he did find some people that he might consider more than acquaintances. Greg Lestrade hadn't made that cut last year, but here he was, standing in front of Mycroft, seemingly asking him a question. 

“I’m sorry, what?” was all Mycroft could manage.

“Uh, I just asked how you're doing? You seem to be a bit lost in the clouds.” Greg gave a slight chuckle with this.

Mycroft paused, “Oh! Yes, quite. I’m fine though, thank you.”

“Good.”

An awkward beat passed between the two of them, before Mycroft realised he should probably carry the conversation on himself.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yes, actually, there is. It’s a bit embarrassing though.”

Mycroft could simply raise his eyebrows in anticipation.

“Well, you see, my AS History and English results were, let’s say, disappointing, and my mum is so excited for me to be the first one in the family to go to uni and i don't want to let her down and seeingasyourethesmartestintheclassiwaswonderingifyoucouldsparethetimetotutorme?”

Mycroft blinked and tried to process the word vomit that had fallen over his ears.

“Sorry, you want me to... what exactly?”

“Tutor me. In History. And English Literature.”

Oh. That was unexpected. From what he could tell about Gregory Lestrade’s friend group, there wasn't a serious bone in their collective bodies. So this proposal had come at quite a surprise. Mycroft looked around, considering that this might be some sort of prank between their mates.

“It's not a prank or anything, I’m serious.” Greg said, somehow reading his mind.

Mycroft thought about his options. He certainly had the time, A Levels were nothing short of a waste of time for him, so maybe tutoring someone would be useful for his University applications. Then again, did he really want to spend his time with Greg Lestarde? What would his friends say? What would Greg’s friends say? They hadn't been actively unpleasant to him but given the right provocation, who knows what they would be capable of. He could see that Greg was waiting for a reply.

“I guess I could help you out, how often were you thinking?”

“Mate, you're a lifesaver, thank you so much. I have football on Tuesday and Thursday, so shall we say Wednesdays and Fridays? And maybe a weekend if I desperately need it?”

Mycroft didn't have any clubs to worry about so he agreed to that schedule. Greg smiled and grabbed his phone from his trouser pocket.

“What’s your number? Just in case I need to get hold of you.”

Mycroft relayed his number and Greg gave him a quick call. Mycroft showed the screen to show he had gotten it and Greg stood in front of him not moving. Mycroft looked around nervously before Greg realised that he was probably going somewhere.

“Oh! Sorry I’ll let you go now! And by the way I got moved into your form group and I don't know anyone in it. Is it alright if I stuck with you?”

Mycroft was getting overwhelmed at the prospect of this new friend on the list, but still he didn't want to seem impolite, so he nodded and Greg shot him a smile. That smile was going to be a problem, Mycroft thought, he just didn't know how.

“Great, thanks again Mycroft, I’ll see you in form.”

And with that, Mycroft was alone. He blindly walked to a seat in that back of the library and stared into space, wondering what the hell had just happened. After what felt like an hour, the bell rang, and he stood up and walked to the form room, on the upstairs floor.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………....

As Greg walked away, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Mycroft Holmes had always intimidated him, ever since he had first seen him on the first day of year 12. Although there was no dress code for the A Level students, Mycroft turned up everyday in a suit. On sporadic occasions he would throw in the waistcoat. Greg had to admit that while it was odd to do that, it was also a massive power move. He wouldn't have the balls to do that any time soon, but Mycroft made it seem natural. It helped that he looked nice in a suit too, Greg pondered. He couldn’t imagine any of his friends wearing a suit. Sure they’d pick nice suits, but Mycroft didn't just wear nice suits. He wore suits that looked like they were made for him. Maybe they were, Greg would have plenty of time to find out, if their tutoring sessions ever progressed further than talking about school.

Greg sighed as he thought about school. He didn't know where he went wrong with his AS exams. Psychology was great and he had managed to maintain his A grade from his mock. French was also great and he had earned a B grade, which was expected. His family was French and he spoke the language, he would have worked for the A if History and English Literature hadn't taken up all of his time. In the end he ended up with D grades in both. His mum had said that she wasn't upset, but he could see it. She was worried about whether he was going to get into uni. That’s why he had asked Mycroft. His mum had to see him off to uni, there was no other option. His mates would say he should just sack off his A Levels and focus on his art, that he was good enough to make it without qualifications. While they might be right, he wanted bigger things than that. Drawing was a hobby that he just happened to be good at. 

He walked out a small door and onto the back field where he saw a few of his mates standing around chatting. He made the rounds and said hello to everyone before settling between Tom and Marcus, who were talking about girls as per usual.

“There is no way that Abigail will say yes to you. She likes beefy rugby players, not scrawny goalkeepers.” Marcus said, matter-of-factly.

“Nah you gotta listen, the way she was looking at me in our biology exam last year, I can't get it out of my head. They were definitely her ‘come to bed’ eyes.” Tom retorted.

“And did she make any sort of contact with you after the exam?” Marcus asked.

“Well.. no… but she might have just been on holiday.”

Greg jumped in at this point. “Sorry to burst your bubble mate, but she actually couldn't go on holiday this year. They were stuck here the entire summer.”

“How do you know that?”

“My sister knows her sister. They were gonna go to Spain, but there was something wrong with the villa, infestation or something, so the whole place was fumigated and no one wanted to go after that.”

Tom’s face dropped and Marcus jostled him around triumphantly.

“See ya boy is never wrong, better luck next time, son.”

Greg laughed but patted Tom on the back, who managed a weak smile in return. The bell rang out and they made their way to their form rooms. At the stairs they parted ways, with only Greg going up while the others all dispersed to their respective form rooms. He was familiar with the language department upstairs so didn't have any trouble finding the room. He walked through and scanned the classroom. It was scarcely decorated, the teacher hadn't had the time to put up any of the posters and displays from last year so the room looked kind of bleak. Greg looked around at the students in his new form, a few familiar faces, none that he would consider friends, but he’s had conversations with most of them. As he scanned the room, his eyes fell on the back row, where Mycroft was sitting alone. He had a book in his hands and he seemed unbothered by the low level of chatter surrounding him. There was an empty seat next to him so Greg moved closer and coughed to get Mycroft’s attention. He jumped slightly and a look of surprise washed over his face as he saw Greg smiling down at him.

“This s’est taken?” He asked, pointing to the empty chair.

“Um no go right ahe…”

“Thanks,” Greg slid the chair out and plonked down. “So, who’s who in here? Anyone I need to be worried about?”

Mycroft tried to hide the flustered look on his face as he considered the question. “Well I don't know about any of the students. I guess watch out for Mr Church, he’s ok but he’s still a teacher so you never know…”

Greg laughed at that, drawing a few looks from those in the nearby vicinity. Most seemed shocked, not at the laugh, but that the laugh was coming from someone talking to Mycroft. As Greg’s laughed died down, the focus on them was lost. 

“That was actually quite funny, I’m sure you have a lot to say about everyone.” 

“Oh I couldn’t possibly say,” Mycroft smiled. “So why did you ask me for tutoring exactly?”

“Isn’t it obvious? What did you get in your AS results again?”

Mycroft’s results had been the talk of the school leading up to the start of term. His 4 A grades would have been impressive on their own, but the fact that he scored 100% on every exam he took, as well as every piece of coursework, was something to be talked about.

“Well yes that’s true, but surely you’d get on better with the other students?”

“Potentially, but why not go for the smartest?”

“Hm true. I’m not sure I’ll be a very good tutor though. I might end up making it all seem like Latin.” 

“It already seems like Latin to me, so you can’t do any worse.”

“Well, I’ll try.”

“Thank you, seriously, you don’t know how much this means to me. How can I repay you?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“No no I insist. Come on anything at all.”

Mycroft thought about it for a second.

“I really don’t know. How about I think about it?” 

Greg seemed satisfied at that. “Sure. But I’ll be checking back.”

“Of course.”

At that point, Mr Church strode through the door, apologising for his slight tardiness. The class fell silent as he started to read the announcements out. Only the football tryouts interested Greg, they started on Thursday. By the time the announcements had finished, it was time for first period. Greg looked to Mycroft to ask what he had. 

“I have economics now, and you?” 

“French. Shall we say first tutoring session on Wednesday? Nothing heavy just getting everything sorted?”

“Yes, of course Gregory.”

“None of that Gregory stuff, it’s Greg, I refuse to answer to that.”

Could Greg detect a hint of a blush on Mycroft’s cheeks? Was he embarrassed about being called out? Or was that something else?

“Of course… Greg.” It sounded like he was trying it out.

Greg beamed at him. “Great, you’ll come round to mine yeah?” 

Mycroft could only confirm as Greg had started to head off in the other direction and ducked into a room for his lesson. He sat down and got his books ready for the lesson. As he sat waiting, he couldn’t help but feel like this year was going to be good to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am working on Chapter 3 as you read this, so expect it up soon! Please comment your (constructive) criticism, I'm really trying to improve my writing. Also if anyone has any tips about publishing a piece of original work on Patreon, I'd be very grateful if you could send me a message.

Mycroft didn’t have much contact with Greg the next two days, not that he was complaining. Greg made him… nervous? Was that the right way to put it? It was the eyes he was sure of it. The way they stared into his. Most people he had observed avoided holding onto eye contact for more than a couple of seconds. But Greg? Greg would hold your eyes even if you weren’t looking at his. They had registration together, and Greg sat with him at the back of the classroom. They didn't talk much, but Mycroft would sneak a peek at whatever Greg’s eyes were trained on. Usually Mr Church or another student. Mycroft found that he also couldn’t read Greg’s eyes as he could others. Most people said a lot with their eyes, whether they were happy, or angry, or upset, and Mycroft could tell a lot from those, including an idea of what was causing the emotion. But he found that Greg gave everything the same soft, gentle gaze. He treated everything as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. It didn't help that Greg’s eyes happened to be a stunning colour; blue with hints of silver dotted around the outside. Mycroft found himself getting lost in them more often than he cared to admit. 

At lunchtime on Wednesday, Mycroft had found himself in the Sixth Form common room, reading a new novel that had been recommended to him by one of his many aunts. He found the book to be incredibly dull in some places, but knew that if he couldn’t produce a coherent review by the time of the next family party, it would come back to bite him in many unsavoury places. As he was turning the page onto the sixth chapter, he felt a buzz coming from his inside pocket. An unrecognised number had sent through an address. Must have been Greg, thought Mycroft. He barely finished the thought when another buzz moved through the phone.

[13:19] You coming round for 4 tomorrow? G

Ahh, ‘G’. Mycroft hoped he wasn't trying to shorten his name even further. He could manage with Greg, but G? He would end up having an aneurysm. As he thought about a reply, yet another buzz came through.

[13:20] Also mums expecting you to stay for dinner. No choice in the matter I'm afraid.

Tutoring and dinner. Was Greg attempting to start a friendship with Mycroft? No that’s ridiculous. Greg already has more than enough friends. Plus why be friends with Mycroft? They come from two wildly different popularity ratings. A friendship with Mycroft would surely only result in lowering Greg’s social standing. Mycroft pushed the idea out of his head as he typed out a reply.

[13:22] 4 works for me. Tell your mother I look forward to dinner. Mycroft.

He set his phone down and picked the book back up. The phone didn't buzz the rest of the lunch break and when the bell rang, he slid the phone back into his pocket and headed towards registration. He walked in and took his seat and stared out the nearby window. His thoughts turned to tutoring Greg. Why had he chosen Mycroft. Of course he was smart, but that didn't mean that the other smart students weren’t capable of tutoring him adequately. They had never had any sort of conversation during the last year, why now all of a sudden? It didn't make sense to Mycroft. Did he confront Greg? Ask him all these questions rolling around in his head? Or did he play it cool and ignore it? See how it all plays out? He didn't get a chance to make a plan of action before Greg sat down next to him.

“Hey, I got your text, mum’s chuffed you're staying for dinner. She wants to know about anything you can't or won't eat? Allergies?”

“Oh no none of that, I’ll be ok with whatever she chooses to cook.”

“She’ll like you, for sure.”

“Really?”

“Definitely. She can’t stand fussy eaters, if you don't like something, she thinks you didn't taste it right.”

“An interesting position, I’ll have to ask her to elaborate.”

“She’ll love you even more if you do that. Right, so I probably won’t see you. I have a free period last so I’m gonna head home early, you ok to come to mine? You won't get lost or anything?”

“No need to worry, Greg, I’ll see you at 4.”

Greg smiled at that, and again, Mycroft couldn't read what Greg was feeling. His eyes didn't waver in the slightest. He couldn’t discern whether Greg was happy or unbothered or something different altogether. He decided that he was going to figure out how to read Greg’s eyes like his life depended on it.

As Mr Church rattled on about the upcoming Open Evening, Mycroft resumed staring out of the window until the bell rang, and he went off to his last double class of the day. As he left the classroom he watched Greg go, staring at his phone, probably texting his mother. Mycroft wondered what his home was like. Was it anything like his? What was the dynamic between him and his mother. Was his father present? A father hadn't been mentioned up until this point. This made him think about his own family dynamic. A younger brother who was getting too smart for his own good, a mother who seemed concerned with everything but him, and a father who couldn't be more distant if he was on the moon. As he walked to the classroom on the other side of the school grounds he considered where he’d be if it wasn't for his parents money. They were rich and he was privately educated from the moment he could speak. Was this a detriment? Would it have been better if he hadn't been raised in a rich family? Would he still be the same. He decided that while he couldn’t change where he came from, he could change where he goes from here. Maybe an insight into Greg and his family would help him with that journey.  
………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Greg walked down his street slowly, the breeze making him pull his jacket tighter around him. The leaves were slowly starting to fall off the trees and create a slippery film on the top of the pavement. Stuff like that had fascinated him as a kid, and now he simply liked to look at things he didn't understand and take them in rather than try to understand it. As he walked, his thoughts turned to Mycroft. He was something that he didn't really understand. The suits, the intelligence, the everything really. He was nothing like the other kids his age. Greg had tried to find out more about where he came from before arriving at Roundwood, but his search had drawn a blank. It really was a mystery. He wanted to find out more but then he decided that it wasn't that big of a deal where he came from. He was here now and willing to help a mate out. Wait. Were they mates? What constitutes a mate for Greg, might be something completely different for Mycroft. For all Greg knows, Mycroft could consider him an acquaintance, a pupil. Or maybe even a nuisance. He shook that thought out of his head. Mycroft didn't seem like the type to put up with a nuisance, so he must not be a nuisance. He decided that Mycroft should simply be taken in, not to be understood, just admired. 

Greg turned onto his road and reached his house. He unlocked the door and called out.

“Mum? I’m home.”

He dropped his bag by the door and turned left into the living room. He fell onto the soft leather sofa and closed his eyes. He opened them to see his mum walking through the dining room which connected the kitchen and the living room. Her long, dark hair was tied up into a loose bun, she must have just gotten back from work.

“Jesus, you're home early. How’s school part-timer?” she asked, moving his legs off the sofa and sitting down next to him.

“Ha ha very funny. School is school. Remember Mycroft is coming round later. He said he’ll be happy to eat whatever you want to cook.”

“Finally, one of your friends who isn't picky with what they eat. He can come round whenever he wants.”

“My friends aren't picky eaters.”

“Oh really? So, new diet every week Lauren, only takeaway Josh, no GMO’s Freddy, no green food Abigail, and only eats chicken nuggets Peter aren't picky eaters?”

“Ok ok point taken.” he relented. “How was work?”

“Oh great! I love having to deal with terrible customers and terrible management at the same time.”

“Aww sounds like a blast!”

“Yeah laugh all you want, you better get into uni unless you want the same life as me.”

“Don't say stuff like that, your life is great. You have me for instance.”

“Ahh yes, my lovely darling son, who didn't know how to do laundry until around 6 months ago.” she jabbed him in the ribs with that. “No, but seriously, my life is fine. But, you definitely can do and deserve better than this.”

“I know, mum.” Greg replied quietly.

He was incredibly grateful for what his mum had done for him. She worked way too much for him not to. He only wished he could get a job and help out a little bit. That conversation didn't go down well. She refused to let him get a job during term time until he was out of university. Until then he would have to settle for summer jobs and christmas temp work. And none of the money he made was to go to her. He would save up and treat himself. It wasn't what Greg wanted, but that was all he was getting, and he wasn't going to push for more. The stern look his mum gave him to warn him off arguing told him that he wouldn't get anywhere if he tried to.

He looked at the clock on the wall and saw it was 2:45. 45 minutes until Mycroft would be on his way. He stood up and went upstairs to his bedroom. He opened the door and went straight to the desk. The only clean place in his room. That was where he worked, he did his schoolwork and his artwork there. A clean working environment was essential to him. He sat down and got out a fresh sheet of paper. He grabbed his various pencils and pens and got to work. He had various tabs open with different angles of birds and took his time working out the shading of his bird. He had settled on a robin and had just finished the outline when his mum knocked on the door.

“What time did you say your friend was coming round?”

“I didn’t. He’s coming at 4.” he checked the clock. “About 15 minutes.”

“Ok, perfect. Are you studying up here? You might want to clean your room.”

“No, I was thinking in the dining room.”

“Alright, make sure all your things are cleared away for dinner though.”

“Of course, since when have I ever left it messy.” He batted his eyes innocently.

“Christ, what a list, how long do you have?”

“About 15 minutes.”

Greg’s mum rolled her eyes and left the room, closing the door behind her. Greg stood up and decided to change into more comfortable clothes. He settled on Adidas tracksuit trousers and a plain white hoodie. He then went downstairs and sat in the living room, scrolling through his phone to pass the time. He was reading the latest football news when he saw movement out the living room window. He could just about make out Mycroft walking down the front path and he stood up and went to the door. As he opened it, he saw Mycroft’s fist raised just about to knock. 

“Mycroft! Perfect, come in.”

Mycroft’s mouth hung open slightly for a second before he composed himself. He hadn't had time to change then, Greg noticed. Mycroft walked through the door as Greg’s mum walked out of the kitchen down the corridor towards the two boys. 

“You must be Mycroft, it's lovely to meet you pet.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs Lestrade, thank you for having me over.”

“Nonsense, you are always welcome here. Oh, and it's not Mrs Lestrade, call me Charlotte.”

Greg looked over and saw Mycroft on the brink of aneurysm before composing himself yet again.

“Of course, Charlotte.” He gave a tight smile and looked over to Greg. “Shall we get started?”

“Sure, lets work in the dining room just through here.” He said pointing through the door. “You want a drink or anything?”

“Tea would be lovely.”

Greg’s mum interjected “Coming right up, you boys get settled.”

Mycroft and Greg took a seat on either side of the dining room table and got their books out. They looked up at the same time and their eyes met. Greg waited a beat before speaking.

“So! Let’s start with History.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments! I appreciate everyone who has read, left a kudos, or a comment! Your feedback and interaction is what is driving me to do this so thank you! My Tumblr is neversolace-writes, feel free to send asks or prompts, it's also where I will start to post updates.

Wow. Mycroft was thorough. Greg stared at the plan sitting in front of him and wondered when the hell Mycroft had the time to do this. Any worries Greg had about Mycroft not being interested in tutoring him had suddenly dissipated. Mycroft had allotted time for preparing for his resits as well as new A2 course material. He was told that they would not rest for the day until Mycroft had deemed him at an acceptable level of understanding of the topic. From the looks of things, Mycroft had set out three days a week where Greg would be receiving tutoring. He didn't mind that, Mycroft was good company and he knew this was his best shot.

“This is…” Greg started.

“Oh no I went overboard, didn't I? I’m so sorry Greg I got carried away and thought that by tutoring you meant actual tutoring, please forgive me.” Mycroft was rambling at this point.

The sudden emotional outburst from Mycroft took Greg by surprise, and he found that he didn't know what to say for a few seconds as Mycroft continued his rambling excuses and apologies. He snapped back to reality and interrupted Mycroft mid-sentence.

“Mycroft! Wait a second! I was gonna say that this is fantastic!”

Greg could see that Mycroft wasn't sure if he had heard that correctly, he was doing that thing with his mouth where it was slightly open. Greg waited for him to compose himself before continuing.

“I’m serious this is so detailed and thorough, as long as we keep to this I’m gonna pass my exams for sure! I honestly don't know how i’m gonna repay you!”

“Oh… there’s no need for that Greg…”

“No, none of that. I’m gonna find some way to repay you, you don't have a choice in the matter.”

Before Mycroft could respond, Greg picked up the schedule. 

“Right, so today it just says introduction, so unless you have anything more to say about this tutoring?” 

Greg paused to let Mycroft respond, he was given a quick shake of the head.

“Great, then I suggest we help my darling mother with dinner.” He stood and started to close his books.

Greg walked into the kitchen to get the plates and cutlery that they needed and walked back into the dining room. Mycroft had cleared away his books from the table and took the plates from Greg’s hands and started to set them down. They worked in silence and got everything done in record time.

“Hey we make a great team.”

Mycroft gave a light chuckle, not meeting Greg’s gaze. “Yes, indeed we do.”

Greg wondered why Mycroft was avoiding looking at Greg’s eye. Was he nervous? Was this awkward for him? Greg always tried to look people in the eye, it's how he got to know someone, to let them know he cared. He truly believed that they were the window to the soul. He wanted to ask why Mycroft wasn't looking, but felt that right now wasn't the most suitable time. This was their first time socialising outside of school, and his mother was about to bring the food in. The conversation could wait, if it even needed to happen. Right now he was content just hanging out with Mycroft.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his mum calling them through to the kitchen. The boys walked through the door and were hit by the wall of steam from the stove. She glanced at them and focused her attention back on the food.

“Ok boys, the food is ready, so can we wash our hands please.”

Greg and Mycroft took turns washing their hands in the kitchen sink. When they were done, Greg grabbed the pot on the stove and peered in. His mum had made a carbonara, easily her best dish. She was clearly trying to make a good impression on Mycroft, and Greg knew this would work. He carried the food through to the dining room and placed it in the centre of the table. Mycroft had found a salad that his mum had prepared and set that down next to the carbonara. As they sat down, his mum brought through a bottle of wine.

“Now what do you boys want to drink?”

Greg chimed in before Mycroft could answer. “Can we have the wine?”

His mum flicked her eyes between the two boys, debating whether it was responsible to give two seventeen year olds alcohol.

“What do you think, Mycroft? Can I trust my son to not get too crazy tonight?”

Mycroft let out a soft chuckle. Greg decided that he had to hear that laugh more often.

“I promise to keep him in line, Charlotte.”

She pondered this answer carefully. “Ok, fine. Just one glass, don't tell your parents.”

“I promise I won’t tell my mum, Charlotte.” Greg joked.

“Are your parents strict, Gregory?” his mum joined in on the joke.

“My mum barely loosens the collar from around my neck to be honest, she’s always breathing down it.”

She lightly smacked her son on the arm, whilst giving him a smirk. “Good to know what you really think of me, after everything I let you get away with.”

“I could be a lot worse, let's be honest now.”

She gave a soft hum in response. “What about your parents, Mycroft? Are they strict? Will they be ok with me giving you wine?”

Mycroft had been watching their exchange with a warm interest and was surprised to be brought into it.

“My parents have given me wine before, it would be hypocritical of them to have a problem with it now. I wouldn’t call them strict, but they do have certain… expectations from me and my brother.”

“I didn't know you had a brother.” a surprised Greg noted.

“I don't make a habit of talking about him. He’s insufferable at the best of times.”

“How old is he?” Greg’s mum asked, as she poured out the three glasses of wine.

“10, in his final year of primary school.”

“Oh Greg was terrible at that age, you couldn't get him to sit still for 10 minutes. Thank god he discovered a passion for art, he would be bouncing off the walls if art didn't require him to sit still.” She ignored the spluttered protests from her son. “Don't worry, he’ll find something to calm him down, they all do.”

“I’m sure.”

Greg’s mum served up the three plates of carbonara and directed the boys to serve up their own salads. They all took the first bite together and Greg watched Mycroft’s face for his reaction. He seemed to pause for a second after taking the first bite, a pause that hadn't gone unnoticed by his mum.

“Oh no, is it bad? Please let me fix you up something else.” she panicked and started to get up.

“No no, please. It’s utterly fantastic. The best carbonara I think I’ve ever had.”

Greg’s mum let out an audible sigh and fell back into her seat.

“Oh thank God, you had me so scared!”

“Sorry, Ms..” he cut short after seeing the look from Greg’s mum. “Charlotte.”

She smiled and rubbed his arm. “It’s ok, love. Now we eat, bon appetit!”

Greg was happy to see Mycroft and his mum getting along. He picked up his fork and started eating properly.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They ate in comfortable silence, having small conversations here and there. Mycroft made sure to make his wine last, he didn't want to make a bad impression on Greg’s mum after all. He made sure to ask about her idea that if you don't like something you didn't taste it right. She beamed as she gave off a passionate answer about how it wasn't as simple as not tasting it right, but more that food has certain attitudes and eating the wrong food at the wrong time means that you aren't able to fully appreciate what you're eating. Mycroft found the answer extremely interesting and wondered whether she had a background in catering, she was clearly passionate about food and knowledgeable to say the least.

“So Mycroft, what's your favourite dish to cook?” Greg’s mum asked.

He could feel his cheeks burning up at the question. “Oh, um, I actually don't know how to cook.”

Greg stopped at this and furrowed his brow. “But what if your parents aren't home and you need to cook?”

“That’s not really an issue.”

“They've never left you alone?”

He was still burning up. How does he answer this question without coming off as pompous and posh.

“Uh well, you see, my parents hire kitchen staff to do all the meal preparations.”

“You have cooks? Jesus you must be loaded.”

“Greg, I do hope that’s not judgement in your tone I hear.” his mum chastised him.

“Oh no not at all, it's actually very impressive! Sorry I didn't mean to sound judgmental.”

“I guess you could say we’re well off. And don't worry, I’ve heard a lot worse about my parents wealth.”

“You shouldn’t have to bear the brunt of your parent’s money, are you ok?” Greg’s mum was showing a lot of concern.

“I’m fine with it, thank you. Living with my family has given me a rather thick skin. It takes a lot to get me riled up about something.”

They all silently agreed to drop the subject at that and continued eating. Mycroft looked over to Greg and could see him thinking hard about something. He went to take a sip of wine when Greg jumped up.

“I’VE GOT IT!”

The force of it rattled through Mycroft, causing him to spill some wine on his shirt and trousers.

“Greg what is the matter with you!” Greg’s mum jumped up and got him a cloth to try and dab the wine off.

“It’s fine, no need to worry.”

“No, Mycroft, my son clearly has no idea about self control.”

“Shit, Mycroft! I am so so sorry! I didn't mean to make you jump like that I shouldn't have exploded like that.”

“It’s ok, Greg.”

“No it’s not, fuck I’m so sorry.”

“Ok we can save the apology for later. Mycroft, I will clean your clothes, don't worry I used to work in a dry cleaners I can deal with suits no problem. Greg will lend you some clothes for tonight, won't you Greg?” Her piercing eyes made the answer very clear for Greg.

“Yes, of course, if you don't mind my style for a night.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

Greg led the way and Mycroft followed. They went up and Greg opened the door to his room. As Greg rummaged through the wardrobe to find something that would fit Mycroft, Mycroft took the opportunity to take a look around the room. The posters on the wall of bands and artists that Mycroft had never heard of took up most of the space. There were also posters of famous paintings that Mycroft could recognise. He wanted to ask about them but then his eyes were drawn to the desk. He stared at the drawing that was left on the desk. Greg had only done a basic outline of a robin but it was already better than anything Mycroft could do. He was still staring when Greg emerged from the wardrobe with a hoodie and tracksuit trousers. He saw Mycroft and felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

“You like it?”

“It’s fantastic, Greg.” Mycroft couldn’t bear to look away from the paper in front of him.

Mycroft took a look at Greg, who was now blushing in full force. He handed Mycroft the clothes and walked towards the door.

“Maybe one day I’ll show you my portfolio.”

“I’d enjoy that.” Mycroft smiled.

Greg paused for a beat before closing the door to let Mycroft get changed. Mycroft stripped off and quickly threw on the clothes. He had never worn a hoodie or tracksuit trouser before. He definitely felt uncomfortable, but he couldn’t deny that the clothes were comfortable and would certainly do for the evening. He took one more look at the drawing on the desk before gathering up his clothes and heading back downstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> I am on Tumblr at neversolace-writes if you want to follow to see updates on fics


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